Responsible
by screaming-poetically
Summary: post“A Man A Mile”. The man had asked if Mac had ever felt responsible for someone. And the fact was, he had. A Mac fic, on request.


**Title:** Responsible  
**Summary:** post-"A Man A Mile". The man had asked if Mac had ever felt responsible for someone. And the fact was, he had.  
**Disclaimer:** The names of all characters contained herein are the property of Anthony Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer Television, CBS and Alliance Atlantis. No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.

**Responsible**

It was five minutes before midnight. Quite late to still be in the office working, especially when one wasn't supposed to be working at all. Shadows crept across the photos on the wall, and the folders on his desk. Some stray particles of light fell in from the streetlights, but he didn't seem to notice them. All he noticed was the dark. The dark that had ruled his life for more than two and a half years.

Mac had never fully contemplated the effect his wife's death would have on him. Sure, they played the "what if" game; all couples do. But did they take it seriously? Of course not. Claire and he had counted on a long and happy life together. One has to take into account, of course, random events of violence; that's why Mac bought her the gun, for the house. She didn't want it, but he insisted. It's dangerous out there, baby, he had said. I don't want to lose you.

But Claire had died from something no gun could protect her from, and something no one could predict. That last one was a bit shaky, but Mac didn't care. He had lost his wife. His Claire- the one, after long nights at the CSI lab, after long nights being surrounded by death, who would surround him in her life. It wasn't so much to ask for, was it, to have her back? No, it wasn't. But he couldn't have her back; that wasn't the way things worked. But oh, how he wished it were.

In the final interview for the case, the one about the Groundhogs (or whatever they were called), the man had asked him,

_"Do you know what it's like to feel responsible for someone?"_

And Mac had left the interview. It was over, anyways. But he had left; he couldn't go home, there were too many memories of Claire there. But he went to an apartment he had rented, in SoHo. He took a shower. As the cold water washed over him, the man's words echoed in his head. "Do you know what it's like to feel responsible for someone?"

Of course he did. He had been responsible for Claire. And he had failed at that responsibility. After all, Claire was dead and he… wasn't. How often, in these past few months, had he wished himself to be with Claire? Every moment was a waking nightmare, and he wanted out. He wanted Claire- to be with her, to be held in her arms… Mac wanted everything and nothing at the same time. It wasn't fair. Of course it wasn't- death never is.

After he had gotten out of the shower, and had dressed, he turned on the radio. Claire used to love listening to music as she made dinner. Mac winced. Did it have to be this song? This song reminded him of Claire; how much he missed her, how much he wanted her still…

_And I'd give up forever to touch you  
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow  
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be  
And I don't want to go home right now_

Mac missed Claire. He missed Claire more than he had ever missed anything or anyone in his entire life. Death had come to Mac before; his dad had died, and his mom soon after. But this death- the death of someone he truly loved, was so hard to get over. Claire would always have his heart. The thing was, he didn't want her passing to change his personality- or his ability to love. Mac didn't want to become as hard and cracked as the Liberty Bell.

_And I don't want the world to see me  
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am_

The song was ending. And, as it were, so were Mac's doubts that he could never get over Claire's death. He decided, in that moment, that he would stop renting the apartment tomorrow. He would go back home, and begin to move on. That beach ball would find a new home, instead of on Claire's side of the bed. There was some much-needed dusting and vacuuming to be done, and he needed to get out more. Instead of wallowing in his sorrow (and drowning it in Jack Daniels), Mac would put the past in the past.

Not that he would ever forget what happened. Or that Claire had gone. No, he could never forget. But he would let himself move on. Both for his sake, and for others. What was it that Stella had said? "I miss the old Mac Taylor- the one who wasn't afraid to let his heart out of his chest once in a while."

His friends missed him. Mac had closed himself off since Claire died. He had to stop doing that. He owed it to them. If not to them, then at least to himself. So, it was time to move on. Let that responsibility go. It was gone. But Mac knew, that in times of desperately missing Claire, that question would haunt him.

**Do you know what it's like to feel responsible for someone?**


End file.
